


The Man Who Wasn't There

by BlackRose



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Cotard Syndrome, F/M, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-30 06:17:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12102576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackRose/pseuds/BlackRose
Summary: The afterlife is nice enough, but he misses the world of the living.





	1. The After

The afterlife has a softly-carpeted dayroom. 

It's a charmingly-cozy place; the walls are an unoffensive pale green, there are potted plants in every corner, and overstuffed armchairs huddle together near the coffee cart. The large bay windows let in plenty of natural light, the Keepers all have warm smiles, and a soothing monotone drones tidbits of news and trivia from the polished wood-fronted radio. Sometimes there's even interludes of soft instrumental music. The dead man likes the music best. 

It is a comfortable place, all told; if only, he thought with a wry, rotting smile, one did not have to be dead to enjoy it! Indeed, it was a true shame; he'd have loved to have sat in the sun and read so peacefully without the worry that his putrefying innards should leak and drip from his eyes or mouth, and splatter the page with foul sticky bile. Bless the kind-hearted Angels; they never mentioned it at all, not even to insist he wipe it up, or demand he cover the blackened and decaying patches on his hands. None of the other dead brought it up either; too polite even in death, he supposed. Not to say he was alone in suffering; far from it. Hordes of his fellow ghouls and revenants and disembodied spirits thronged about aimlessly, sometimes guided by the Angels but mostly wandering in a daze, occasionally moaning, shrieking or sobbing. Gods only knew under what horrible circumstances that particular lot had died----were they perhaps cursed to relive their demise for all eternity? What an awful existence! At least the man couldn't recall much about how he'd come to be here; just a sharp agonizing pain cleaving one side of his head, and a blinding flash of light. A woman's voice, screaming. 

His eyes snapped open sharply. A name had come to him, that time. Aulea. Her name was Aulea. How he knew that, and who she was, remained stubbornly elusive and with an irritated grunt he resumed scratching at the raw patch near his wrist. He preferred to pick out the largest flecks of rot, so as to keep more of himself whole and clean-looking for as long as possible. The Angels helped to that end; they'd bind the gaps in his flesh and apply balms to stop the pain, clot the gore and mask the smell. Gods above, how the stench of death must cling!

"Ardyn, darling," says one of the Angels, her sweet voice cutting through the fog of his mental self-recriminations, "you have a visitor."

With a start, the man remembers that he has a name. Yes; this body had a name once, didn't it? It lived. it was real. This corpse was called Ardyn back when it breathed. He forces himself to remember how to draw in a deep breath----must remember to breathe; he had to pretend for the Medium's sake!---and sits up straighter, trying to smile for the young man who is approaching his chair. Those starry indigo eyes are uniquely arresting; Ardyn wishes he could remember where he's seen them before. The man smiles at him, taking a seat across from him and cautiously reaching for his unbandaged hand. 

"How are you, Uncle Ardyn?"


	2. The Citadel

Citadel House was the largest private mental health facility in Insomnia. It was also one of the best, or at least the most expensive. To some, that meant the same thing. 

The important thing, in Noctis' opinion, was that they really seemed to be helping his uncle. Sure, like all who struggled with their mental health, Ardyn had good days and bad days. But more often than not, when he went to visit Noctis would find his uncle reading calmly in the day room, his scrubs clean, his hair washed (that used to be an issue; he believed that exposing his body to running water meant he'd accelerate the 'decaying' process) and he no longer had the IV tube they used to feed him through, so they must have convinced him to eat. True, he still apparently had self-harming impulses, but even those didn't seem as severe as they'd once been. And regardless of how dark his mood or his thoughts, he always seemed happy to see Noctis. Even on days when he remembered him only as 'The Medium'----a kind of psychic who could cross the veil of the afterlife and commune with the dead---he would still sit and chat with him, seemingly eager for news of 'the living world'. When he did remember Noctis as his nephew, he'd joke with him and ask after all the family, especially his brother, Noctis' father Regis. Regis, so far as Noctis was aware, had been to see Ardyn exactly once since he'd been committed. That visit had lasted less than an hour. 

For that reason, every Wednesday after school Noctis had his assistant Ignis drive him over to the facility. The older man would sit and wait in the car while Noctis visited Ardyn, and then checked in the with the nursing staff on his uncle's condition and treatment progress. _Someone_ needed to know, for example, that earlier in the year Ardyn had been battling a lung infection, or that recently he'd begun to ask about a woman named Aulea, and seemed to think it was important to know that she was okay, even though he couldn't remember who she was. That was the main thing Noctis intended to ask today. 

As usual he showed his ID to the guard at the door, who smiled and waved him inside. Wedge was a good man; he'd been working there since before Noctis was born. He knew each and every resident by name, and wouldn't hesitate to step in if a resident's loved ones were causing trouble. At the desk was that cute blonde nurse Lunafreya, whom Noctis was ashamed to admit he had a crush on. He dared to hope she maybe felt the same, though he'd never been able to ask as much because how weird would it be to ask her something like that while she was working? Still, her sweet smile made his heart flurry as she set aside the paperwork she'd been filing. 

"Good afternoon, Noct! Here to see your uncle, I take it?"

"Ah, yeah. How is he?"

"Doing fine, no serious incidents since you were here last. I'll go find him."

He turned out to be sitting in his usual chair not far from the window, a book closed beside him as though he'd meant to read but simply couldn't quite concentrate. He was picking absently at the bandage on his wrist, but when he saw Noctis approach he straightened up and a warm smile lit up his sunrise-colored eyes. He squeezed Noctis' hand when he took his, making rare, complete eye contact for the first time in weeks. 

"I've missed you, dear boy. I was starting to think you'd forgot all about me."

Noctis laughed.

"How could I ever forget my favorite uncle?"

Ardyn pretended to scowl. 

"I'm your only uncle, therefore I win by default. How have you been? Is that brother of mine still as intractable as ever?"


End file.
